Page 41 of The Fixer
“Me too,” Rosa says with a laugh. “Hello, Violette.”
The wedding planner quickly figures out Rosa loves the ocean and suggests a beach wedding. “We could have it here,” she says. “The wedding department manager at the Excelsior owes me a favor.”
Rosa’s eyes shine. “A beach wedding?” She glances at me. “Could we do that? I know you wanted to get married in church?—”
Fuck, no. That’s the last thing I want to do. Too many bad memories, too many ghosts from the past. “I’m good with the beach.”
“Perfect. I’ll check with Giacomo to see what dates are available in October, and I’ll get back to you on Monday. Rosa, I’m assuming you’ll be making your dress?”
Violette is the best in the business for a reason. In thirty minutes, we hammer out the details. Well, the two of them sort out the details, and I wisely keep my mouth shut, offering my opinion only when asked. Rosa is beaming by the time we’re done. “Smart move hiring Violette,” she says, linking her arm with mine. “She was great at Valentina’s wedding. Really great.”
“Another thing off your to-do list.”
She laughs. “It’s a never-ending list,” she says. “But I can safely check this one off. Beach?”
Rosa visits two boutiques,spending ten minutes at each. She buys a plain black bikini at the second, and then we head back to the Excelsior, change into our swimsuits, and claim a pair of beach chairs with umbrellas. A white-clad waiter brings us towels and drinks. “This is nice,” Rosa sighs as she takes a sip of her Aperol spritz. “I should do this more often.”
I can’t take my eyes off her. “Why don’t you?”
“Have I mentioned the never-ending to-do list?” she asks wryly. “There’s always something when you run your own business. When was the last time you were here?”
“I don’t remember,” I tell her honestly. The sight of her in her bikini is making the blood rush from my brain to pool much lower. Warm brown skin, round breasts, curved hips, legs that go on for days. . . My cock aches for her.
Get yourself under control, for fuck’s sake.
I adjust myself discreetly. I need a boner-killing topic of conversation, and I need it now. “Do you want children?”
She gives me a sideways glance. “Do you?”
A little girl with Rosa’s luminous eyes. “I’ve never thought about it,” I lie. “And you’re avoiding answering my question.”
“I want children at some point, yes,” she replies. She’s wearing those damn sunglasses again, and I can’t see her expression. “But not for a few years yet.” Her gaze lingers on me. “In three or four years, maybe one of those lovers I’ll take will do the deed.”
Ihatethe thought of another man touching her the way I did.Hatethat another man might hear her moans, glide his coarse hands over her delicate skin, part her soft thighs, and?—
Fuck.
I clench my hand into a fist.This is your choice,an unwelcome inner voice points out.You can have a relationship with Rosa. You just won’t let yourself.
I lapse into a brooding silence.Ten minutes later, I get a text from Del Barba.
She’s in.
Thank you.
No thanks are necessary; I didn’t do anything. She was already on the shortlist.
But, of course, I’ll still owe him a favor. Deal with the spider, get trapped in his web. I regret nothing.
When are they going to tell her?
She should be getting an email any minute now.
Just as he says that Rosa’s phone buzzes. She makes a face and reaches for it. “It could be Gisele,” she says. “I better check.” She picks it up, then her face breaks out into a smile. “I got an email from the Milan Fashion Week committee,” she says happily. “I’m in.”
“That’s fantastic. Want another drink to celebrate?”
She looks up at the sky. Sometime in the last ten minutes, ominous-looking rainclouds have rolled in. “I don’t think we have time,” she says as a bolt of lightning flashes across the sky. “In fact, I think we better run.”